Three Days Grace
by Salkiethia
Summary: Sequel to TCR: Yami and Yuugi have fallen on hard times. Yami ends up with a little more trouble on his hands than expected when he goes out looking for help. #Puzzle# Anal, Angst, Bond, COMPLETE, Yaoi
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Prologue

-

-

-

"That brings the total to $124.96," the cashier said.

Beside Yami, Yuugi turned away from the sweets wall with a gasp of dismay.

Yami winced inwardly and tried to still the onsetting headache.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but could you take _all_ the cereal off that?"

The cashier nodded and pressed a few buttons. "Your new total is $117.43, sir."

Inwardly, he swore. To Yuugi, he asked plaintively, "Is there _anything_ else we can do without for this week?"

The shorter male shook his head.

Yami sighed. "I have $100," he told the cashier. "Is there any way to lose as little as possible and make it under that?"

She nodded and reached for the controls, but then paused. The sympathetic gaze she offered Yami made him feel even more sullen, if such a thing were possible.

"Just take them," she said, placing the winkled set of bills Yami had given her into the cash register. "I'll cover the loose ends for you. I know what it's like to be short on funds."

He hated accepting charity, hated taking help from others when he was unable to accomplish something himself. But he also knew when he was in over his head, and so he thanked the cashier graciously and gathered the little they had purchased to see them through until next week.

Left behind at the register was a pile of cereal boxes and fresh produce carefully bagged – in a heap nearly the size of the items they were leaving with.

Laden with plastic bags, Yuugi somehow still managed to be smiling. "Look on the bright side, Yami," he chirped. "We don't have to carry as much weight home."

Yes, Yami reflected. That was true. But only because the hundred dollars that should have been able to feed them easily for a week with surplus no longer stretched quite as far.

_If this keeps up,_ Yami thought, _I won't be able to take care of the two of us anymore._

The thought of losing Yuugi was too painful to consider.  
He would find a way. They both would. They always did. Though those ways were getting trickier and more difficult to navigate by the day, and eventually would be too narrow to take.

*~*~*~*~*

"She seemed nice," Yuugi commented, tucking the milk into the mostly empty mini-fridge.

Yami, leaning on the table, looking out the window, shook his head. "She felt sorry for us," he corrected. "Pitied us."

Yuugi's nose wrinkled slightly while he tried to decide where to put the bowl of leftover rice to make room. "I still think she was being nice. She didn't _have_ to help," he pointed out.

Oh, Yuugi – ever the optimistic one, Yami reflected. A smile tugged at his lips.

"Aibou?"

"Hmn?" Yuugi sounded distracted by the contents of the fridge. For a brief moment, Yami entertained the idea of a tussle, but the phone rang before he'd taken two steps in Yuugi's direction.

"Yami, can you get that?"

He did, and by the time he had hung up, he knew they were in more dire straits than before.

"Who was it?" Yuugi had finished emptying the bags into the fridge, reducing it from entirely empty to somewhat full.

"Landlord," Yami replied, eyes dark. "Said he's tired of waiting for the rent."

Yuugi's soft violet eyes had widened in alarm. "How much do we owe?" he exclaimed.

"Too much to be paid off by the end of the week, aibou. We have until Friday, and then we have to be gone."

"That's only three days!" the younger male exclaimed. "How are we supposed to do that?"

He sighed and dragged fingers across his forehead, seeking to chase away the very real beginnings of a headache starting to pound in his temples.

"I don't know, aibou. I just don't know."

****************************************************  
Author's Notes: Now how's THAT for a depressing start? For anyone who hasn't read TCR, that's the beginning of this all. This story takes up pretty much where TCR left off…just in a different setting, different time period and the cherries all have different names. XD  
Simple enough to follow, ne?  
Well, since I was bored today, this part got written, but I have yet to start the first actual chapter. Prologues rock, though, hah.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Begin

-

-

-He supposed the best idea was to begin looking for a new place immediately. The only downside was that he and Yuugi had quite literally spent their last cent that morning on food items.

Curled up in the only corner devoid of dust bunnies, Yami frowned. He needed to _think_ dammit!

In such conditions as they lived in now, he knew they would only arouse one of two emotions – disdain or pity. Though far preferable to disdain, pity was the one that irked him most, because it implied whoever held it was in a higher position. Someone above them.

And Yami did not care for that notion.

Yuugi was asleep in the center of the room, wrapped comfortably around the Puzzle. Thank the gods it was summer, else the two of them would have frozen.

_I can't earn enough money to keep this shithole in three days, but we can't find anywhere else on such short notice!_

Sitting still as he debated with himself was not comfortable, but he didn't want to wake Yuugi by pacing through the single room they shared. So, he levered himself to his feet as silently as possible and slipped out the door, making sure to shut it quietly behind him.  
Job was out of the question. New place was, too. So, what in hell could they do?

Yami growled as he left the tenant building, stepping back out onto the streets, the abrupt transition from gloomy to over-bright stinging his eyes.

Cars buzzed as they whizzed by. Other pedestrians jostled Yami slightly in passing. No one went out of their way to avoid him, but no one was being a bulldozer and running him over, either.

_Funny,_ he reflected, _how two years ago, I wouldn't have been able to set foot outside without someone calling out my – or, technically_ Yuugi's_ name – but now…_ A dark smile directed at himself. _No one even knows who we are anymore. A passing fashion. A whim. Flight of fancy. Duelists are things of the past._

Two years ago… When he still had been dueling competitively. When he and Yuugi hadn't needed to scrape a living off rocks. When people had _known_ them.

Two years ago… When a team of duelists had died. When Duel Monsters had begun to lose its appeal to the fickle populace. When everything had changed.

He tried to remember those good times, but the recollection was hazy at best. So much easier to focus on the present. Simpler to recognize what was, what wasn't and wonder what to do about it.

Faces stood out in the memories he did have. Yuugi's memories, really, for the most part. But a few of his own.

Wild blonde hair on a slender, scruffy male. Neat-to-a-fault brown outfitting a more regal-seeming one. Chestnut mane hanging loose about the chin on a slim young woman.

Faces…names.

Jounouchi Katsuya.

Honda Hirito.

Mazaki Anzu.

He let his feet carry him with the crowd and mentally thumbed through the disgracefully short list. Anzu – she had moved. Dreams of being a dancer had fallen through and instead she'd ended up as the secretary for the CEO of some company or another outside Japan. No help from that direction. She hadn't even left contact information.

Honda… The brunet had vanished just as effectively, leaving behind no clue as to his new whereabouts Yami had no suspicions, ideas – anything. Honda was gone, and that was that. After the last tournament, he hadn't been too fond of the other, anyway.

They'd managed to grow apart.

Jounouchi though…

Even without having heard from either Jounouchi or his sister, Kaiwii Shizuka, Yami figured he could probably still remember where they had lived.

Possibly they still were there.

He stopped to get his bearings and set his feet on a new course.

_Jounouchi, ready or not, here I come._

**xxxxx**

The alleyway was more dingy than he remembered it being the last time he'd been here…

Two years ago.

A barking dog startled him. The mangy cur leapt at him, snarling in frustration behind its wire fence.

Yami got over his surprise quickly and kept on, ignoring the furious howling that reverberated ominously among the close buildings. He walked at a sedate pace, just shy of slow. A deliberate set of measured steps, designed to dissuade anyone so much as _thinking_ about confronting him.

Bluster, for the most part. A show of force he didn't possess anymore, calculated specifically to intimidate.

Even if there was no one around to see it.

Now, which one was Jounouchi's house?

Caved in porches, paint peeling, siding gone. Which wreck belonged to Yuugi's one-time best friend? Some didn't look fit to house worms in, let alone people.

_Is this what we may be reduced to?_ Yami wondered, casting a quick glance down another alley-like offshoot stuffed with filthy scraps of cloth and cardboard patched together as a makeshift roof. He couldn't imagine living in _these_ conditions.  
_And I thought we had it bad now,_ he thought, delicately hopping over a puddle of stale urine and old alcohol. _Compared to these, we live like kings._

Sobering thoughts. So much farther to fall than he had guessed. But knowing the trip to rock bottom was further than anticipated didn't make the journey up look any shorter.

_There it is._ He recognized the chaotic front and the side, unartistically graffitied with various gang tag marks. The brilliant blue, red and yellows had faded to shadows of their former selves, and overlaid in some parts were white **X** marks and purple crosses.

Without hesitation, he stepped up on the porch, ignoring the threatening creaking. Let the structural integrity of the house sort itself out. _He_ was looking for someone.

The doorbell was broken out of its socket, but an ugly brass doorknocker waited for his touch.

Yami lifted it and banged hard three times. Then waited, standing, feeling unaccountably foolish.

The door opened.

He had playful banter on the tip of his tongue, ready to escape and romp in the air. It died at the sight of a glassy-eyed man, slovenly dressed, giving head to a cigarette.

"Whatcha want?" the man drawled, pausing long enough to breathe and speak before going back to the little stick of drug.

Yami shook his head and backed up a step. The porch creaked. "I was looking for a Jounouch Katsuya or a Kaiwii Shizuka," he said, holding onto is calm demeanor as best he could

"Ne'er 'eard of 'em." A sly smile. "But there's a couple o' guys that migh, 'specially if yer on yer knees when yer askin'."

The lewd smile and suggestive roll of the hips was enough to convince Yami to leave.

Three people. Three places. Three homes now empty of them former inhabitants.  
With a heavy sigh, he trudged back the way he had come. He wasn't quite as careful on the return journey and was convinced he'd need to scrub all his skin off to feel anything like _clean_ again.

**xxxxx**

He was quiet as he opened the door, but it seemed he hadn't needed to be. Yuugi was awake and playing a game of solitaire in the middle of the room.

The smaller male looked up when Yami entered. "You're back. I wondered where you'd gone to."

So cheerful, even now.

"I went to visit Jounouchi," he answered. Shutting the door firmly behind himself.

He had Yuugi's full attention, then. Violet eyes were wide as their owner demanded to know more.

Yami tugged Yuugi into his lap, ignoring the other's minor protest about being treated like a doll. He always thought better with Yuugi around anyway, so having the little one close at a time like this was necessity.

"He wasn't there."  
Yuugi's body twisted to level a mock glare at Yami. "Are you sure you had the right house?" his partner demanded. "You aren't exactly famous for remembering directions to places, mou hitori no boku."

Yami chuckled and ran a hand through Yuugi's hair. "_Quite_ sure, aibou. Jounouchi's place was the one he tried to decorate himself. I can't forget art _that_ bad." Even to his own ears, the attempt at lighthearted humor sounded hollow.

Yuugi frowned slightly, but made no reply to that.

"I'd love to get this solved before Friday," the violet-eyed young man breathed.

Yami found himself in complete agreement.

"Aibou?"

"Hmn?"

One hand tugged Yuugi even closer. "Are you busy, little one?"

A joke, left over from their first time.

Yuugi tilted his head back and Yami nibbled on the smaller's ear affectionately.  
A tiny moan escaped the bubbly youth.

Yami smiled and leaned back, resting with Yuugi across his chest, the weight a comfortable foil to the problems that rested more metaphorically atop him.

"Are you just going to stop?" Yuugi murmured.

"Would you like me to continue?" Yami countered.

Yuugi's nonverbal reply was a definite 'yes'. Yami found himself smothered under his partner, lacking for air, but thoroughly enjoying Yuugi's mouth ravishing his own, and the hand that was sneaking up inside his shirt.

The violet-eyed young man broke the bond between their mouths, letting Yami breathe as the black spots began to sparkle and die from his vision. Yuugi's searching eyes always made him feel so exposed and vulnerable. It was a feeling he both relished and dreaded.

Fear of being inadequate, being found wanting in some way – no matter how self-confident he might appear on the outside, Yami knew he was much more fragile than anyone would suspect. All it would take to break him would be to remove Yuugi from his life.

"I want you," Yuugi whispered, and Yami's fear evaporated at those words, as it always did. Only to be reborn at some later date, the mutant offspring of a phoenix, but for the moment, all worry was vanished and he yielded himself up.

Warm skin and mouths met, gentle with each other, marveling over the slightest flaw – the proof that they were both human and could own one another.

Yami lay passive, letting Yuugi explore his body til the little one was content. Something of a ritual to both of them, though neither had an inkling where such a thing had come from.

With the exploration, Yami let Yuugi's gentle hands undress him, drawing clothing gently away from skin – peeling away the cocoon to release the butterfly housed within.  
And after the butterfly was freed from its confines, it floated, letting the wonderment of purple eyes draw across. Let trembling fingers run across wings that were unsteady, trace the ripples of a black body.

"You're still wearing too much, aibou," he remarked, breaking the silence.  
Yuugi's only reply was a laugh, soft and gentle.

Yami twisted up, capturing his aibou in his arms and swiftly divesting the smaller. "No time for games," he breathed into a welcoming ear. "You want me. I _need_ you."

They lapsed back into silence punctured only by soft moans and the sound of skin sliding across skin.

Yami twisted onto his front when Yuugi went to fetch lube. He was in the mood for something hard and fast – a fact Yuugi would pick up on given the entirely submissive position he'd adopted.

Yes, once they _could_ talk mind-to-mind, and it had been a close connection. But separated, having their own bodies, a code of silent communication without words had been established that tied them even closer.

Yuugi's violet eyes lit up when he turned to find Yami waiting like that. The silent begging for pure domination. A wish to forget responsibility for a time – to let someone else be in charge.

Light hands on his hips urged them up. Fleetingly, he wondered if Yuugi was going to simply take him without any prep work at all. While it might be enjoyable in a painful sort of way, it could be a bit inconvenient to sit if that happened.

But then there was the cold, slippery sensation of a finger sliding into him, moving slowly, cautiously – and then beginning to tease until he was unable to think beyond the moment.

Forgetfulness born of raw desire.

"Please."

Yuugi joined him, hunting that elusive evasion of reality, until it dragged both of them off on wings of ecstasy, before finally fluttering away, leaving them with one another.

And for that moment, just being together was enough.

_______________________________________________

Author's Notes:  
Differences from TCR: Kissing, for one thing. It EXISTS. Then there's the less obvious distinction of both of them being HUMAN. Fully human. Yami isn't brought up on the idea of being god-spawn and so while he still has authority, it isn't the kind born of demanded deference. By now he's earned every bit of respect offered. Yuugi clearly isn't Moswen – someone remind me and I'll do a backstory on the kid; it's all planned, even – but he's probably not the sweet innocent you remember from the anime or the mostly innocent from the manga. While a totally hardened Yuugi isn't appealing in the least to me, one with great experience concerning the difficulty of everyday life IS. So, that's my two cents on that matter. Oh, and I DARE you to guess where Jou is. TBS next chapter.  
Yes, no mind-to-mind speak here. I figured sharing a mind was sharing a body which justified being able to discuss things with Yami. Like talking to yourself, really. (But if you answer yourself, there's something wrong. :p) But without sharing a body, I have decided they no longer have access to a "mental link".  
Yuugi really hates peeping toms, so he's keeping me as far away as possible. Yami doesn't mind at all (actually I think he gets a kick out of it. XD)


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Among the Angels

-

-

-

He tapped his foot impatiently. Every ten seconds or so, he checked his watch. Still no sign of the house's third occupant.

_If he's still sleeping, I'll kill him,_ Kaiba thought, starting towards the stairs –

Just in time for a ball of blue and gold to go hurtling past him.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Puny protests, but satisfactory.

"Then come on. We're late as it is." Kaiba headed for the door.

"What about breakfast?" Incredulity laced with the after effects of staying awake much too long.

"I already ate," he answered icily, sweeping out the door. After a moment's indecision, the other followed, trailing behind Kaiba like a whipped cur.

The limo pulled up and one of the doors snapped open. Kaiba gestured and the other male slunk into the vehicle, taking up residence in one of the seats near the back. Out of the way. Out of mind.

Kaiba pulled his laptop out and began hunting for any stray signals. If he was fast enough, he could usually get in about five minutes worth internet time on the way to work – more than enough to brief the entire building on exactly what he expected before the end of the work day.

Efficiency was the key.

The other passenger stared silently out the window, legs pulled up close, the very picture of beaten obedience.

_I'm getting tired of him,_ the brunet realized as his connection terminated in one area and he swiftly reestablished it with another network. _Time to send him back to the gutter, where he belongs._

**xxxxx**

Once at the office, he stalked in, pointedly ignoring the curious gazes leveled his way by impertinent employees. He'd never brought… Well, it certainly wasn't customary for him to be seen with another human being, so perhaps the glances were explainable.

Certainly not acceptable, though. Right before boarding the elevator, he cast a glance around the room, branding the faces of all those whispering excitedly into his mind. SO what if he was twenty employees short the next day? There were lines of folks queuing up to work for him. It hardly mattered, twenty more or less.

They'd be replaced by week's end at the longest.

The elevator doors shut, and he stood in silence, glaring at the counter as it whizzed him up to the top floor. Beside him, just as silent, cowering slightly…

_Just about time to get rid of him. Gutter rat._

Top floor.

The doors opened. Kaiba motioned, making the other exit first. He followed him out, the elevator doors shutting silently behind them.

"Second door on the right," he instructed, pointing down the hall. "Don't touch anything."

He didn't bother watching to see that his instructions were followed. _Gutter trash may not have any bloodlines, but it can still follow orders with the best of them._

Kaiba's own thoughts struck a sour chord. His long strides easily carried him down the hall in the opposite direction. He left his briefcase outside the door at the furthest end of the hallway before going in.

The room was labeled as storage, and technically, it was. Storage for sensitive information, anyway. The whole place was wired with cameras on every angle to prevent blind spots. And stored there, gathering information on rival companies 24/7 was a host of the most advanced computer software, outstripping the capabilities of any other technology on the market.

While the whole operation didn't exactly fall under illegal, the practice was obviously not ethical in the least. So, best kept out of sight.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

Kaiba snagged two data sticks, filled with information, on his way out. Lately the von Schroders had been a thorn in his side, and he planned to fully eradicate them soon. Possibly today, if the data sticks held any proof of the alleged corrupt dealings…

Briefcase back in hand, Kaiba walked sedately towards his office. The door was partly ajar. He tapped the bottom with his foot to make it swing open fully.

Standing in the middle of the room, staring at the floor was the other, waiting, not touching anything.

_I wonder how long he can stay like that?_

But while a contest of wills would be amusing, he had more important things to do.

"There are magazines in that desk, if you need to amuse yourself," he remarked, settling in behind his own desk with his laptop. "Just keep quiet."

A confused look flickered over the other male's face, but then he shrugged and went to investigate. Kaiba heard the top of the storage desk creak and a puzzled sound emanated from the general vicinity.

"So odd what business men consider to be bribes, isn't it?" he inquired conversationally, clicking away at his laptop. "Apparently I fit the stereotypical young male image – I'm loud, lazy, ruled by hormones, and addicted to porn."

No reply to that. It was just a s well. He didn't feel like listening to someone trying to make a list of vices into virtues.

His attention shifted entirely from the real world to his computer screen, little red flags raised by a few suspicious sounding emails.

Twenty minutes later, he'd discovered the makings of a minor scandal and a few cover-up attempts that could escalate it. _Schroder Corp, you're _ mine.

**xxxxx**

Fighting back a yawn, Kaiba stretched, flexing his hands in an attempt to release some of the tension built up in them. The little clock at the bottom of his laptop screen was disabled so it always read 00h. A quick glance at his watch showed it to be well beyond eight o'clock.

At least the data collection hadn't turned out entirely void of good news.

Well, good news for Kaiba Corp, at least. Not so wonderful for the von Schroders or their lawless…affiliates.

He smirked, closing the laptop. Maybe he'd stayed at the building a little longer than intended, but what was a scrap of time weighted against a mine of misfortune?

Scandals, heaped on misdirection, mixed with lawbreakers and generous amounts of money. Such a pretty picture…a highway to the Schroder's downfall, lined with the corpses of broken oaths and false truth.

The laptop closing startled the sleeper on the rug into wakefulness. Kaiba transferred his smirk from his laptop to his cur. A mangy, scrappy, _difficult_ dog of a human to understand.

But quite a long time ago, he had learned that one didn't need to understand, respect or even like another to gain physical pleasure from their touch.

_I'd planned on doing this at home before kicking him out, but I don't feel like waiting._

Maybe his hungry gaze betrayed his intention. The moment the dog realized he was looking at him, the crazy thing tried to appear insignificant – invisible.

Impossible.

Kaiba had come out from around his desk, and was loosening his tie, even as he kicked off shoes that served no purpose. Leering, cold-edged look fixed on the living means to satisfying carnal desire, he stepped closer to that cowering ball of fluff on the rug.

One command and one reason for existence only.

"Strip."

To be availed by skin the same hue as his own, bled white, bleached by surrounding color… He shed his tie, dropped it on the floor. Drifted out of his shirt, leaving it behind as a trail marker to find his way back when he was through. Unhooked the belt and let it slither to the ground. Abandoned pants, leaving them to be rediscovered at some later date.

Stood thinking, a thin curtain of black silk separating him from the world. That, and a pair of socks, but nothing else.

Watched the close expression on the dog's face melt across the spectrum before settling on dejected acceptance.

Dragged the offending bare body close, close enough to feel the staccato pulse, hear the breathing much too shallow, feel an unnatural trembling.

Rejected the final barrier of clothing and took the pleasure from breathing, from being. Claimed the insignificant dog as he had meant to, and when he was through, calmly traced the road back, reassembling the discarded pieces to once again for Kaiba Seto, the untouchable ice prince.

_'You need not like them to want them. You need not adore to garner pleasure from. You need not love to use.'_

What else were you right about, Gozaburo?

**xxxxx**

The ride back to the mansion was silent. The mongrel cur lay curled up in one corner, the light sound of breathing and occasional whimpers the only indication he was alive.

Kaiba watched him, the corners of his lips twisted upwards in a smirk that held through every jarring of uneven pavement. Through every tiny jerk of the dog's abused body.

And then they were home.

_I wanted to get rid of him tonight…_

Another night of trying to explain away why he bothered keeping another life around him.

"Nii-sama!" As he dragged himself out of the limo, heavy with cruelty and malice, the golden voice of his angel penetrated the dense fog he was lost in.

"Nii-sama!" Mokuba, running flat out, catching him up in a hug, smiling in his pure, innocent naivety.

How could he help but kneel before his younger brother, smile and cradle the gift of heaven in his arms?

"What is it, kiddo?" Low voice, soft and gentle.

A bright, sparkling countenance as his only answer. And a light tug on his arm, the insistence of a silent "Come on!" whispered by actions into a slowly darkening night.

Kaiba let his brother lead him, leaving behind his shell in the driveway, an empty thing – a mask of anger and attention. Now he held neither, simply existing on the whims of his better self – the soul created to make up for his faults.

His feet carried him, dancing to the tune his own pied piper played. Following the course Mokuba set, through the dead mansion, up to the living second floor to stop, tangled in each other, too close for words.

Mokuba's hair brushed against his face, for once again he was on his knees. Slate eyes that knew too much watched him, their quiet belief enough to shatter any stone remaining.

"Welcome home, Nii-sama," Mokuba breathed.

_Perfect angel, perfect demon. Bled together you're perfect human._

Something that happened every night he came home. But tonight, he felt the cur slinking past the door and paused, empty eyes waiting to fill with the most dangerous drug of all – emotion.

Then the intruding presence was gone and he became simply Seto, held close in the arms of an angel, "Nii-sama, Nii-sama," echoing in the stillness around them.

Until "I'm here, I'm here," became the mantra to replace their names. A binding between shattered souls. One torn asunder and one passed off as whole.

Until the evening swallowed both of them and delivered them into pure nothingness.

__________________________

Author's Notes:  
I'm thinking I may need to put N/C in as a warning…. For anyone who didn't pick up on the ref, Jou's with Kaiba. For now anyway, and he isn't really "with" Kaiba so much as…near him.  
No one can argue that Kaiba's got an addictive personality. Either he's addicted to work, he's addicted to defeating someone or addicted to taking care of Mokie. Obsessive.  
That MUST come across in my opinion. Kaiba isn't anything if his obsessions are removed. Without his capability to be twisted up inside himself, Kaiba Seto may as well not exist at all.  
While this might have an incestuous feel to it, I can assure you it was NOT meant that way. Mokie is to Kaiba as Yuugi is to Yami, with consideration to their souls. (Vessel for eternity type thing?)  
Anyway, the Kaiba bros are actually one person, mistakenly torn apart upon rebirth. Due to the current condition of Kaiba's soul, he's not rational when it comes to Mokuba. But don't be alarmed. Nothing will come of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Siren's Song

-

-

-

Yuugi's face was mere inches from his, so close he could feel the other's soft breath caress his face. He didn't want to move away, to break out of the protective shell of Yuugi's arm. Didn't want to assume the responsibilities again, but…he had to.

The moment Yami moved, Yuugi became aware again. Cursing at himself for having wakened his partner, he tried to get Yuugi to lay down again.

The little one was not to be distracted. Yami watched, still sitting so close to him. Violet eyes sparkled.

"Let's go to the museum!" No explanation, no reasoning, just an offer. "Yami, can we?"

Pleading.

_Why the museum?_ he wondered. More importantly… _Why now?_

Long ago, Jounouchi and Anzu had learned to trust Yuugi. Long ago Honda and tiny Ryou had learned to depend on him. Somehow such deep beliefs had managed to escape Yami.

He trusted Yuugi, yes, but instead of the blind trust borne of no other options, the trust he placed in his partner was conditional. _If you can do this, I will let you._

No further.

And yet… With the energetic, angelically bare form of his partner tugging on his arm, a winsome smile decorating that gentle mouth –

_How can I say no?_

Gracefully, Yami acquiesced to the strange, and altogether unexpected , request.

"But first put some clothing on," he ordered, tossing a few articles toward the violet eyes blinking innocently at him. As if their owner couldn't possibly decide what _clothing_ was for.

"If you don't get dressed, we won't go."

Yuugi was fully clothed in an instant, leaving a baffled Yami still wrestling with an extra set of belts.

**xxxxx**

Every move he made – Yami was painfully aware of every little move. Each step, the small tilt of his aibou's head when something of interest passed.

Madness.

What was it that Mailk had told him before the Ishtars had left for Egypt?

_'Once he's in you're head, he'll never really leave. You'll always feel him. Even if he's dead to anyone else, everyone else…he'll always be there.'_

Was that the reason, then? That he and Yuugi had shared a body? Was _that_ the 'why' behind his heightened awareness?

**xxxxx**

The museum steps loomed imperiously, the stone glittering in the mid-afternoon sun. Yami paused, simply staring at the huge building. He'd been here once before…

A sense of uneasiness rested behind the back of his throat, clenching until breath was hard to draw. But Yuugi was already ascending the steps, gliding upwards over the old rock to the gleaming plexi-glass doors. Despite his growing tension, Yami followed, compelled by stirrings he could not explain.

Right behind Yuugi he entered the building and the weight of some pending discovery settled itself on him. Once through the empty checkpoint, his aibou froze, staring up.

Yami let his gaze follow, and found himself assaulted by a reverse world of sight. Looking up, only to be looking down on a perfect copy of Egypt in her golden age.

A set of kids chasing each other brushed against Yami's thigh, startling him. He tapped Yuugi lightly on the shoulder.

Looking up to look down… Holographic images carving out a life so many thousands of years ago. Yuugi seemed unaffected except to remark at the stunning attention to detail.

Yami's thoughts skipped the details and centered on the mind _behind_ the images, icy thrill and burning anger waving in bursts through him.

Two years ago… Two years ago –

Yuugi's hand tugged him away from thought, toward an exhibit.

_Leave your anger, leave your wonder,_ that insistent hand commanded. And, as with all commands of Yuugi's, silent or spoken, it was one to be obeyed absolutely.

"Yami - it's a tour group," Yuugi exclaimed, pointing even as his other hand clutched spastically on the taller male's jacket. So young, even grown as he was. A child, trapped forever, doomed to remain as such for an eternity.

At his abiou's instruction, the two of them followed the group, trailing slightly behind to listen in on the speaker's commentary. Yuugi seemed enthralled, but Yami still had the sense of unease hanging over him.

He barely listened to the woman's monologue, absorbed in the feelings and sensations assaulting him from every direction.

_There_ was Yuugi, a warm palm resting on his arm, a swift heartbeat and cheerful violet eyes that had seen perhaps too much of the world. _Here_ was the erratic pulse of his own heart, flopping around as if stranded. For what reason he was unsure.

And then somewhere else, within the confines of the museum's walls, lurking, _there_ was another presence, brooding and vigilant.

But no time to dwell in that as Yuugi tugged his arm and they were off again. He had the strangest sense at having been caught trespassing, but dismissed such an absurd idea in lieu of the excited chatter Yuugi was pouring into his ear.

" – and the Aztecs cut out their victim's hearts – "

Had that last exhibit really been Aztec? Even the mental image he'd had of it had begun to fade already.

Crushing pressure weighing down, constricting on all sides until he couldn't breathe…

And still Yuugi, cheerful, sunny Yuugi, kept talking until his words began to drown out the feeling of being watched. Until Yami could breathe properly again. Until Yuugi's hand no longer was giving squeezes that went unfelt and unreturned. Until he was back in himself once more.

"Are you hungry? I think I saw a café on the way in…"

**xxxxx**

They were lost. Impossibly, hopelessly lost. Yami had been in the museum before, but only _as_ Yuugi. Two years was a long time to remember the layout of a place he had only seen once.

Longer still when the memories didn't even belong to him. Yuugi's memories, faded and partially overwritten like bad photography.

"I don't remember this," Yuugi said, sighing and wrapping arms tightly around Yami. A small child asking for reassurance. Yami let one of his own arms drift across Yuugi's back, pressing them close together.

The humming was in the back of his head, fuzzy-ing his thoughts and making escape from the labyrinth they'd ended up in that much less feasible.

"I don't know where we are." Whimpered, a plea arousing protective insitincts within him.

"Hush, little one. Shhh – it's okay. It will be okay."

He held him, letting the heat of their bodies mingle. For whatever reason, this place they had found themselves in was chilled.

_Cold…but doesn't heat rise?_ Well that didn't make sense then. Not if they were where they were _supposed_ to be.

The uneasiness came back full force and his head snapped up. Yuugi was oblivious, clinging onto him, hands clutching convulsively at Yami's shirt.

Hair prickled on the back of Yami's neck and he cast his eyes about the dimly lit hallways, all tangled together. Impossible to navigate.

Movement –

A jolt of mad energy flooded through his veins at the sparkling ice flickering across the way. But dark, too dark to make out their owner –

Still, maybe he didn't need to. He blinked and those eyes were gone, vanished into the miserable gloom.

And still he cradled the warm body of his aibou, whispering nonsense, but the sound of his voice seemed to soothe. He wasn't sure how long he held the little one tightly, or how long they waited patiently in the dusky gloom. Eventually flashing beams of light split the dark, blinding Yami though he glared back defiantly, ignoring the smarting behind his eyes.

"This place is off-limits," a hard-voice informed him.

"We were lost," Yami replied quietly, eyes half-adjusted, just enough to pick out five shapes hidden behind that punishing brightness.

"We'll take you back where you belong." A more sympathetic voice, offering gentle reassurance. On the whole, Yami decided he would be more likely to trust the first speaker. There was nothing hidden behind those cold words.

Instead of a verbal reply, he offered a nod and gently pulled Yuugi's arm. The smaller male had been extraordinarily quiet for the exchange.

Only gently, to discover Yuugi had fallen asleep leaning on him. Carefully, Yami gathered his partner into his arms, ignoring curious glances and deftly sidestepping hands that reached out with intent.

Yuugi. _His_ aibou. _His_ responsibility.

"Let's go," he told the gawking set of staff. "It's cold down here."

On the trail back, he thought he heard someone mutter, "Of _course_ it's cold; we're underground."

He ignored it, because of _course_ they couldn't possibly have wound up underground. Not when they'd taken all the stairs _up_.

**xxxxx**

The atrium looked overly large and friendly after the dungeon-like quality of wherever they had gotten lost. Since there _had_ been a huge set of stairs the group ascended, Yami decided they had indeed wandered to lower levels. The question of how was the perplexing matter.

But in favor of his slowly awakening aibou, he pushed that question right out of his mind. Or, at least, tucked it into a corner of his skull where it wouldn't get in the way.

"Yami, where am I?" Yuugi's voice, shy and soft, violet eyes wide, watching the five guards that had served as an escort.

"Just the museum, aibou," Yami replied, catching those stern-faced gazes and turning them away. There was something to be said for a commanding gaze.

"Come on, let's go home," Yami urged softly.

Yuugi's eyes fluttered slightly, drooping again. "M'kay," the small male whispered, words caught on air currents.

Yami held the tiny body carefully, protectively. Over Yuugi's still form, he offered a nod to each of the five before walking out the exit, bearing Yuugi all the way home.

**xxxxx**

Not yet midnight. Still a few minutes to go. Yuugi was sleeping, curled around the Puzzle as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Yami let the hint of a smile cross his lips. Stood, stalking across the room to the door and slipped out, leaving his partner breathing gently behind him.

The night was lukewarm, enough to feel cold on bare arms, not quite enough to raise shivers or goosebumps. He slithered through it, drawn without really knowing why. The museum was calling him, weaving a siren's song that had caught him. And now he had no choice.

_Obey,_ the song commanded, and obey he did.

Followed the twisting melody through the streets like a sleepwalker, unaware of anything except the destination he was called to. It was singing in his veins, pounding in his blood, contaminating, purifying.

Owned and loaned, brittle and strong, all at once.

**xxxxx**

The plexi-glass doors opened at a touch. The inner lobby was the same, but he hardly paused to glance up at the ceiling. Still ringing, blinding him to anything else was that _ca;;_, dragging him out of himself. Making him do things he never would have done in a rational state.

Leave Yuugi alone at _night?_

But inexplicably he had, and the chorus hadn't even begun.

Feet moved of their own accord, guiding him lower and lower, into the very bowels of the museum. His breath came in puffs of white steam, but despite the chill he felt nothing. Cold beyond feeling, numb beyond needing to.

His body halted, released from the compulsions set upon it. Lights flickered into life, illuminating bare walls before him. Still he could _feel_ the ringing of the siren's song, but no longer blindly obeyed.

Dumbstruck, the cold finally began to kick in and Yami started to shiver, wondering what on earth had _possessed_ him to go out in the middle of the night without a jacket.

The sound of footsteps startled him.

"For a duelist who is nearly impossible to defeat through ordinary means, you sure are predictable in everything else you do."

That voice.

_Flash of blue, a voice blending into a thousand words. Twisted lips, and _ blue_, shallow enough to drown a grown man or rescue a child._

The flashes of alternating hot and cold poured over Yami as he turned slowly away from the blank wall, eyes tilted down slightly, not wanting to see him but _knowing_ -

"Yami." The implied command, _look at me_ scribbled through his name. He refused, addressing the floor instead.

"Kaiba."

Author's Notes:  
You know how some behavior is acceptable for kids but n ot adults? Yuugi's flirting with that line. I can't afford the luxury of having any of my characters mentally competent at this point.

So I didn't think I'd have a chapter done before I left for Florida, but for the past two nights, houses have been falling on top of me with ideas. Thus, this got written, and chapter four is in the wings, so... Yeah, it's up. And, surprisingly enough, I actually have a plan for everything. Amazing, isn't it?


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

A Change in Plans

-

-

-

He wasn't surprised that the King of Games wouldn't meet his eyes. This wasn't a game, after all, and that left the other vulnerable.

"What are you doing here?"

He smirked, stepping closer. "I could ask you the same thing, you know. It's after hours – I have a right to be here. What about you?"

He knew the other wouldn't have a reply to that. There _was_ no reason for the shorter duelist's presence and they _both_ knew it. In truth, he figured he could very easily guess why. The other had _felt_ something – maybe a twitch in his hear, or a pain in his hand, or imagined a friend dead a couple millennia that had commanded he go to the museum. Exactly at midnight.

Kaiba knew the obnoxious group of comrades that called this one their leader believed in destiny and fate and a whole host of other concepts he couldn't abide.

Faith.

Trust.

Being weak.

The worst was the notion of a preordained future, already set in stone. I wasn't real, and never would be. The future was shaped by action, and believers in fate rarely felt compelled to _act_ to ensure that fate.

"Look at me."

There was no answering movement to obey his command. He smirked and dragged the other's face up, cradled in one hand.

Eyes shut before he could look into them. Inexplicably he needed to look into the other's eyes.

"Look at me." Still nothing. "Look at me, or I'll have you thrown in jail for trespassing. I bet I could have a lengthy sentence…arranged."

It had the desired effect. Eyes opened. But…

"You're still not looking at me," Kaiba rebuked quietly, almost affectionately, if it weren't for the icy chill behind his words. Unfocused eyes snapped onto his gaze, poisoned with confusion, anger…fear.

He stared into eyes that burned. Stared until the other's paralysis broke, and the shorter duelist shook his hand off and backed out of reach. But their eyes remained locked, heating the silence with the one emotion that overcame all else – hatred.

"What do you want, Kaiba?" A voice of steel, no longer quaking from the inside out. Rebuilt in a few moments as an unbreakable structure. Recreated as a world without windows.

He offered a smirk and turned. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Without waiting for a reply, knowing he would be followed, Kaiba set off at a sedate walk down the long hallway. He felt the moment of hesitation, indecision behind him, but in the end, that spark vanished in the all-consuming desire to _know_.

"Kaiba, what is this about." That damnable self-righteous voice – sickening.

But they were there. "Take a look for yourself, and tell me."

Lights sprang to life, illuminating the room with the tomb carvings Ishizu had "accidentally" left behind. He had had the things brought down here because he hated them. Inexplicably, he ended up spending more time in the museum storage after the move, staring at them. Studying until something became obvious, at least to his eyes.

His rival seemed not to appreciate the spectacle, asking instead, "Is this why you brought me here this late at night? To show me bits of a tomb?" He seemed to conveniently have forgotten he'd dragged _himself_ to the museum in the first place, Kaiba mused coldly.

"Not that one," he growled. "This one. Look at this one, and tell me what you see."

Slow, hesitant steps carried the other duelist within range, but Kaiba was feeling impatient, not murderous.

"What do you see?"

Smoldering eyes transferred from his face to the rock and back. "It's the same as it was when the Ishtars left. There is nothing to see."

_Spoken like a blind man. Well, if that's the way he wants it, I can accommodate._

"If there's nothing to see, then get out," he snarled.

"Kaiba – " Uncertainty. How he loved the taste of it on the air, on his rival's words.

"Get out."

Slow footsteps reverberated, marking the other's bewildered exit.

Kaiba drew closer to the stone, a hand outstretched, fingers brushing lightly across stone a shade too deep – smoothed over. Cut out. Stone between two outstretched hands that might once have borne a mark of some sort. An image. An explanation.

It felt like another eternity spent pacing back and forth, examining and reexamining the stone, the floor, the inside of his head. Confusion, illusion, delusion. Dragged in circles until nothing was even close to sense anymore and the hours beyond midnight began to make themselves visible.

_I need to get home. Mokuba will be waiting._

**xxxxx**

The limo was waiting for him, its black shell dull under the matte finish. Nothing to reflect – a black hole made to swallow what came near, not return it.

He got in, leaning on the window as the driver pulled out and began to analyze the conversation he'd engaged his rival in. Tore it apart in his head. Searched for the weakness that had ended it. Tried to formulate a different scenario.

Because, of course, whatever had gone wrong all had to do with some equation that was off.

Didn't it?

**xxxxx**

"Nii-sama!" The heart-achingly sweet cries of his better half roused him from the circle of questions and doubt. _Here_ at least was one thing he understood absolutely, one person he could always predict. No hidden additives – the perfect, infinite counter-balance to his nothing.

He swept his younger brother up in a hug, fingers twisting into long black hair.

"Nii-sama," whispered against his shoulder. Shaking body under his hands.

"What is it, kiddo?"

Slate eyes, wide and soft, too perfect to be quite real. "Welcome home, Nii-sama."

Did it matter that it was past midnight by far too long and he'd be leaving again in another hour or so? Never.

_Perfect angel, perfect demon. Bled together, you're perfect human._

He lifted his brother's small body, carried him through the mansion, through the wraith-like first floor, ascended to the living second. The room housing the cur was silent. It left him free rein to break open the shell, to forget its existence and simply be.

He carried Mokuba down the hall and nudged the door to his brother's room open. Left his brother's sleeping form in the middle of the bed, gently covered by a thin blanket. Paused at the door as he left, drinking in the sight closest to heaven. Thought the words he had no right to know, much less offer.

Then he strayed to his own room, and took up residence before the clock, watching the seconds pass. Counting each breath, every movement of the dying room on the living second floor. Ingrained, so when the sun came, when the hours grew, he could leave his room in its death throes, life slowly being strangled out of it.

**xxxxx**

The cur was active about a half-hour before they left. Long enough to eat breakfast and sit at the table, pointedly ignoring each other. Long enough for Kaiba to assert dominance once again, and again think it was long past the time when he should have gotten rid of the pesky dog.

Today the other made no move to following him to the office, and so, when he left, Kaiba thought no more of it.

Fingers that usually raced across the laptop keys sat quietly today, reflecting on their owner as he pondered the strangeness of the midnight hour. Was it coincidence that he had been at the museum when his rival had appeared, or that later they were there again? He hadn't thought so at first – had thought at _all_ - but in the light of a new day, it seemed too fantastic a notion to be believed. Coincidence, his practical mind dismissed it as, and that ended that.

Having laid aside that one piece of his life, promptly and remorselessly he moved on to the next, never-ending segment – that of work.

Never mind an ingrate cur, an ancient stone. There was the truth of life here, laying in clean black and white across his desk with no smudges of grey. Here was the reason it was so easy to immerse himself in facts and figures. The truth of existence.

**xxxxx**

The phone was ringing. Its obnoxious sound pulled him out of the trace he'd fallen into. Irritated now, Kaiba lifted the receiver and growled into it. From the other end came the slightly wheezing voice of the head of staff for his mansion.

"Excuse me sir, but your houseguest has disappeared."

_Disappeared? All to the good._

" – do anything to find him?'

"That won't be necessary," Kaiba snapped. Then he hung up. So the cur was gone.

_I guess he'd had enough. About time, too._

He tried to refocus on work, but his efforts were half-hearted at best. Recognizing flaws and fixing them were two very separate things.

_I'll finish flagging the errors in this before I leave. Then tomorrow, I can focus on fixing them._

Everything went swiftly after that.

**xxxxx**

The mansion didn't feel any emptier than usual when he walked in. It didn't surprise him. The lower level was dead and abandoned – it couldn't possibly feel more empty than it was. Climbing to the second level –

It felt more alive. Emptier, yes, but the weightlessness of being freed from a burden, not being deprived of life. And, besides, it could hardly feel empty with his angel's presence here.

"Nii-sama! Nii-sama!"

"What is it, kiddo?"

"Welcome home, Nii-sama."

_Perfect angel, perfect demon. Bled together you're perfect human._

Author's Notes:  
I'll leave it to our resident geniuses to explain why Mokie's the only one with a reliable name in Kaiba's narrative thus far.  
Not that it really means much, but… I like metaphors. And allusion. Poetic devices. Not only are they simple to understand, they're easy to learn. Application is the difficult piece. Kaiba's mansion is ALL metaphor. A living second floor built on the corpse of a dead one? A room strangling itself with foolishly based concepts and a skewed outlook?  
The Kaiba mansion has become a metaphor for its occupants, and I try to personify the structure as another entity. Maybe Kaiba's way of looking at himself (indirectly).


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Interlude: Jounouchi

-

-

-

Every time he touched me, I promised myself it would be the last time. But that bastard got me caught up in his cycle. Not hurt-comfort, but the far more addictive circle of agony-ignore. I guess he knew I couldn't just walk away from that.

Except, I did, finally. It wasn't him that kicked me out, either. I left before he could have that particular satisfaction. Not soon enough…but not too late for me, either, so I guess it all worked out.

Damn thing is, now that I'm out, I got no idea where the hell to hole up. Sold my old pad when he… Well, when I left it.

Easy enough to leave any place. I don't have enough worldly crap to tie me anywhere, ever. Only bond I really had aside from the one with sis was with Yuug' and his group. And, well… For the most part, they've all vanished.

Took me all of two minutes to get out of that bastard's mansion. Maybe another three to walk off the grounds; five minutes to escape one of the more twisted chapters in my life so far. Even less time than that to walk away from Yuug'. And now… I guess I'm heading back for him. Can't think of anyone else forgiving enough to take me back, even if I hadn't just up and left. Even with that guy living in his head, Yuugi's definitely the most solid of the crew I got left.

Now if I just knew where to find him.

**xxxxx**

I can't believe these people. I ask for the whereabouts of Moutu Yuugi, and all I get is blank looks.

"Moutu?" one whispers. "Wasn't there some real estate agent called that?"

"Sir," another asks, "are you looking for the realtor Moutu? We don't know a Moutu Yuugi."

What gall. I wouldn't have been all that surprised if they hadn't heard of me. Runner-ups don't generally attract that much attention, and I got used to always playing a step below Yuug'. But not to know _Yuugi?_ Obscene.

I don't answer. Can't.

I mean, I know dueling isn't all the rage anymore, but didn't it keep _some_ loyal followers after the bastard's last tournament?

I guess not, or someone might have known Yuug'. As it is, it's nearing evening, and I'm still in limbo, torn between going back and spending a night on the streets.

Satin sheets, good food, comfort, safety – none of that's available out here. I don't really want to go back, but do I have much of a choice?

My feet start moving on their own, taking me back up the street, the way I came. Even this far away, I guess he's still got me trapped.

I go slow, pausing not quite long enough to become a loiterer in all the shops. Just stand around after a while, not even pretending to look. Because one way or another, looking means feeling, and there ain't no way in hell I wanna start feeling again.

Guess I hung out too long here. The counter woman's glaring at me like if I don't up and out _now_, she's gonna do something to make it happen. I ain't in a fighting mood. I just leave.

Wander up and down a few more streets, watch the light going away as the sun sets. Doesn't get too chilly too fast, so I'm good for a while longer.

Partway through my wandering, hoping to find an alternate to 'home', I have an idea as I walk by the museum for what feels like the hundredth time. Not many willing to sleep with artifacts that make their great-grandparents look like toddlers, but I ain't gonna be picky. Just hope it's still open.

It is. A bit odd, I guess, but maybe security tapes are supposed to warn off intruders, or maybe the lookouts are being lazy. Either way, I'm in, and right about now, I don't give a damn how I managed it.

**xxxxx**

Curled up with the paintings in the basement isn't very comfortable. I had something of a close brush with security twice already, though. I'm not risking getting caught the night I've escaped. Knowing him, he's glad I'm gone, but if I returned he'd do a damn good job of reminding me why I shouldn't leave.

**xxxxx**

There's noise. Soft, padding footsteps. I'm tense. My ears _know_ those steps. What the fuck is that bastard doing _here_? How the hell did he know? I wouldn't put it past him to have installed a tracking device or some super computer chip to read my brain. Dammit! And just when I got out, too.

But his steps aren't coming into the art storage. They're fading away, down the twisted mess of halls.

I'm too tense to go back to sleep, and it's freezing anyway. Quietly, I get up and follow.

Damn curiosity. If you get me caught, I'll kill you.

It's not so easy to follow him out here. His steps don't echo quite the way they should. I suffer a few close calls until I see that he's pacing the length of the hall, pausing at odd intervals to check other offshoots or look at his watch.

The light when he checks it shines on his face, bringing out all the sharp angles. I have to close my eyes to keep from running out to hit that smug face. Even with them closed, I can feel him there. It's like knowing there's a wildcat waiting to rip you apart for its dinner…but only after it's done playing.

Some invisible signal goes off and he gets tense, rising to his fullest height, nostrils flaring a bit. Anyone else might have compared him to a king stallion scenting danger. I know better. No horse ever got turned on by blood.

He starts walking again, slowly, but filled with purpose. I trail behind because I can't think of anything else to do. And – dammit, yes, I'll admit it – I don't want to let the bastard out of my sight.

_ "For a duelist that's impossible to beat by ordinary means, you sure are predictable in everything else you do."_

It's hard to see through the shadows, but when I do, my jaw drops. What the hell is Yuugi doing here?

But _he_ doesn't call him Yuugi. A different name slips out, the one Yuug' used to use before we all called the guy in his head 'Pharaoh'.

_ "Yami."_

"Kaiba.

The deep voice that answers is definitely _not_ Yuugi's voice. But the guy still doesn't turn around. I'm on the outside. What the hell happened?

There's a weird tingling thing going on in the air. It makes it hard to breathe. I've got a reason to get out, besides just the bastard, now. I take it, groping blindly up stairs and hoping I don't make enough sound to be noticeable.

**xxxxx**

I don't know what the hell is going on downstairs that made my brain feel all fuzzy, but whatever it was, I don't like it.

And Yuugi's there, too…except, that really isn't Yuugi. It's someone else who looks exactly like Yuugi, 'cept with a deeper voice. How'd the guy in here anyway? Was the front door unlocked for him too? Beyond weird…

I need a place to stay still, and no way am I holing up again in art storage. For one thing, it's freezing. Modern art might be easy on the eyes, but it doesn't make for good blankets.

**xxxxx**

I found it by accident. Yuugi's house. I don't even remember when he moved out of the Game Shop… Too long ago.

But I'm sure this is his. It's got stabs of personality written all over it. I knock on the door. It makes a hollow sound. I don't think anyone would have heard it, so I knock again and again, harder each time until I'm pounding. It's only after my fist is sore that I notice the doorbell.

Even outside, I can hear the obnoxious buzzing. Moments later, the door jerks inward. Well, it's not Yuugi, that's for sure.

"Can I help you?" She looks confused and shifts so she's partway behind the door.

Well, this isn't awkward or anything. "Uh, I was looking for Moutu Yuugi – "

Oh, right. No one remembers who the fuck he is anymore. Feeling dejected, I turn, ready to leave.  
She surprises me by grabbing my shirt collar. _He_ did that too. It's an act of pure will not to growl at her.

"Oh, that boy who lived here before!" she chirps. "Moutu-san doesn't live here anymore, but I know where he moved." She's making the strangest expression with her eyes.

"Oh." It's all I can think to say. She doesn't offer his new address. After a few awkward seconds of silence, I ask, "Can you tell me?"

She blinks, the plastic grin disappearing for a fraction of a second. "Oh, yeah. Here," she lets go of my shirt and props the door open with a foot. "Come in and I'll get it for you."

Even though she's a chick and not brunet – or skinnier than paper – she's still got me reminded of Kaiba. It's how she moves, I think. Self-assured, and touchy-feely in an "I do/I don't" sort of way.

Gives me the creeps, to be sure. Or maybe I'm just seeing things that aren't there.

About two minutes after she's forced me onto the couch – more or less in a sitting position - she returns bearing an index card with wavy writing across it. At least they don't write the same. That would _really_ freak me out.

"Are you a friend of Moutu-san's?" she asks, plopping down next to me on the cough. Still a bit too close, although there's at least an arm's length between us and no other furniture for sitting in the room.

It doesn't escape my notice that this is one of those love-seat things designed for two. I'm crammed against one arm, and she's delicately perched on the other, curiosity filling big, green eyes.

I scratch at the back of my neck trying to ignore how uncomfortable this feels.

"Well, yeah. I mean, me an' Yuug' went t'school together an' we've been buds forever."

Until the last two years rolled around, at any rate, but mentally I excuse the white lie.

She nods. "So which one are you? I talked with him when he was moving out, and he mentioned friends… But no one came to help except his twin. I thought it was a shame."

Her eyes aren't too friendly right now.

I guess I can't just run out the front door. Well, I _could_, but that's probably not the wisest move to make. Trying to explain I was being held hostage and fucked senseless by Yuugi's arch-rival probably won't go over very well either.

That leaves lying, and though it hurts to dig it up, I've got an old one in the books.

"Yuug' knew I wouldn't be able to come. I – I've got – " _I had_ " – a younger sister. She was having her eyes operated on."

_Three years ago, but does it matter?_

"I had to be with her."

Her expression softens a bit. "So y ou're the one with the sister. Yuugi talked a lot about you. Called you his best friend."

She shifts on the arm of the loveseat and looks at her hands. "Well, good luck finding him, then. I hope your sister's eyes get better."

That's a goodbye, I guess, 'cause she stands up then and pushes me towards the door, suddenly all business again. I start down the stairs, but stop when I hear her voice again.

"Hey, I never got your name."

I turn and offer what I hope is a dashing smile. "Jounouchi."

She does the dimple-thing again. "I'm Sasiuke. Tell Moutu-san I say hello when you find him!"

Then she disappears into the house, leaving me half off her porch, clutching a brittle sheet of paper with an address. Nothing else.

It's dark. It's late.

But… I guess it's something.

**xxxxx**

The place is an apartment building. I don't really feel like going door to door, knocking to find which one belongs to Yuug'. Actually, I'm a little surprised at the condition of the place. It isn't as crummy as my old pad, but it's nowhere near the 5-star residence he was in last time I saw him.

There's a guy inside, smoking, when I go in. One side is completely covered in tattoos while the other lacks decoration entirely. IT makes an eerie picture. He's the only person here, though.

"Do you know where Moutu Yuugi lives?" I don't honestly expect much of an answer, but he surprises me.

"The punk with the weird hair and the twin?"

Since "weird hair" is about the most accurate description of Yuugi's style that I've heard, I nod. The "twin" part I'm not so sure about, but I guess whoever was talking to Kaiba in the museum could qualify as a twin…

"Second floor, third door on the right."

"Thanks."

The man takes a long drag from his cigarette and nods.

I set off up the stairs. They don't creak, but that's only because they're cement, not wood. Chunks are missing. AT least the whole building is cement. I don't think I would have trusted a wooden landing.

Second floor… Second floor… Third door – right hand side.

I knock, wondering if this is actually the right place. Wondering what the hell I'm doing here. Wondering why I didn't just go back to my own personal hell.

The door opens and a bleary-eyed figure with messed up hair peers out. Doll eyes gain sparkle and I feel like my ribs are going to crack when he jumps on me.

"Jounouchi-kun!"

I run my hand through his hair. He's still so goddamn short that he looks like a kid. "Yeah, Yuug'. It's me."

**xxxxx**  
Sitting in the middle of the living room/bedroom/kitchen that also doubles as a foyer and closet and basement, it's hard not to feel right at home. Yuugi's eyes are real big, and he's sitting just a little too close.

It's impossible to tell him to move when his eyes are like that. He's a kid at heart.

And he wants to know where I've been. I can't tell him. It's sickeningly easy to sidestep the issue. He comes closer when I do, so his hand is resting on my knee.

I want to push it off, back out of reach, but I _can't_ because it's _Yuugi_ and he really doesn't mean it.

The door opens then, and he scrambles to his feet, whizzing by to throw himself at an almost identical copy, latching on as if for life.

Burning red eyes meet mine over Yuugi's head. It's the double from themuseum. I'm sure of it. How man near-identical copies of Yuugi can there be in the world?

"Jounouchi."

That's his voice, for sure. A bit confused, a little shaken, but mostly relieved. Why?

"I was looking for you earlier."

Earlier? How early? It's got to be past midnight at least.

"I couldn't find you." Red eyes darken. "We need your help, Jounouchi."

My help? _My_ help?

What the goddamn, fucking shit in hellfire is going on? I thought _I_ came here for help.

He doesn't seem to have noticed that I'm obviously at the end of my own rope. He doesn't seem to have noticed _anything_ except to acknowledge Yuugi still clinging like a doll to his waist.

"We need a place to stay," mingles with my rushed, "I need somewhere to crash." Uneasiness fills the silence.

Yami – that's what Kaiba called him, wasn't it? – nods, eyes darting down to Yuugi's who's almost asleep on his feet. The taller version gathers the shorter in his arms and cradles him, rocking until light breathing becomes the only sound I can hear.

Yami dips to his knees and lays Yuugi down on the floor, snagging a jacket to drape over him. Then he's standing again, looking at me. With a significant glance at Yuugi, he motions toward the door. I nod and follow him out.

The hall is dark, lit by the failing light of dying lamps. Yami leaves the door partly open and settles on the floor.

After a moment's hesitation, I do the same.

"I'm sorry about your sister," are the first words out of his mouth.

I'm startled. He knows about Shizuka? I didn't even find out until a few days after it happened. Well, it had been nearly a year – I guess word filters out eventually.

"She was very brave."

I didn't come to reminisce, but anyone mentions Shizuka and I can't help it. She was starlight to the core, no matter how corny that sounds. "Yeah…she was." I can't help but remember her coming after me in Battle City – after her _real_ eye operation – when I nearly drowned. Or any of those other times when she was just around and made me stronger with her own belief.

"She saved Yuugi."

Now _that's_ a story I haven't heard. "What from?"

Yami gives me a strange look. "She saved his life, Jounouchi. She kept him from being killed."

Something doesn't ring quite right. "What?"

His eyes are burning into mine. "Shizuka saved Yuugi's life at the cost of her own when Kaiba was trying to kill him."

Shizuka - _Kaiba?_  
"What the fuck? She died in a car crash!" That's what he told me. That's what – that's…

Yami is shaking his head.

"Kaiba killed my sister?" It comes out so soft I'm not even sure I said anything, except Yami's dark eyes are filled with pity.

"You didn't know?"

"He – he…" But he couldn't have. A year ago, when Shizuka died, he had been out of the country."

"No." I'm shaking my head, even though I don't know why I feel I have to defend the maker of my hell. Misplaced loyalty, I guess. "No. He's a bastard, but he wouldn't stoop that low. He was gone when it happened, anyway."

Yami's eyes tell me differently. "She died at his last tournament, Jounouchi. Two years ago."

Author's Notes:  
In my timeline, Jou wasn't there for the Ceremonial Duel where Yami and Yuugi split. Kaiba was, though.  
NOT implying Yami and Yuugi are related. I just needed a slightly more normal explanation for Yami than "the guy who used to live in my head but now has miraculously obtained his own body which happens to look nearly identical to mine!"  
"too close" – Jou's developed person space issues from being around Kaiba. In the case of Yuugi, however, the space issue is real rather than imagined.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Into the Mansion

-

-

-

Maybe the hall was a bit too quiet of a place to have this particular discussion. Though, it was less of a discussion and more of a discourse, or revelation. AN unpleasant revelation.

_He. He._

Yami was fairly certain he knew exactly which "he" Jounouchi was referring to.

Kaiba.

Damn him. Kill him. Destroy him.

Save him.

He hadn't meant to remember the insane light in Kaiba's eyes in front of the stone tablet. The humming in his blood, chanting a song just below his ability to hear.

Jounouchi looked horrified and bewildered. Betrayed.

_But betrayal is nothing new._

Slowly, deliberately, Yami recalled the events of the tournament two years past. Watching denial, hurt and rage brush across Jounouchi's face kept him speaking. If he could tell the story, he could absolve himself of guilt at having been unable to help.

But a little part of him watching brown eyes fill and spill tears felt a twinge of satisfaction.

_This is how I feel,_ it whispered. _This is how the world should feel. Because I hurt, so will you._

The story didn't take long to tell. It only felt like forever. He expected that to be it, but when his monologue ended, the blond began a choked recitation of the version of events Kaiba had given him. _And_ the life Jounouchi had been living for the past years.

When it was over, he couldn't decide if he was horrified or enraged or disgusted or…beginning to accept.

Yami stood. He had meant to ask Jounouchi for help, but now that the broken shell of a duelist that had once been his aibou's best friend needed _him_, he couldn't refuse.

"Stay with us, Jounouchi. We have one more day. Stay with us." His thoughts turned to the odds the blond had taken on at ever turn in duels. "We could use your luck."

Behind him, he thought he heard Jounouchi mutter something dispirited. With a humorless smile, he reentered the apartment, Yuugi's old friend trailing after him like a lost dog.

**xxxxx**

The ringing of the phone woke him. With a growled oath, he lurched towards it, yanking the screaming thing off the hook to answer.

"Good morning, Moutu-san. This is just a reminder that by eight o'clock tonight, all you belongings must be gone. Anything remaining on the premises will be confiscated and destroyed. Have a nice day!"

Disgusted, Yami shook his head and hung up the phone, wondering how a person could sound so damned _cheerful_ in the process of evicting someone else.

"Yami? Who was that?" Yuugi was sitting up, brushing sleep from wide violet eyes.

He drudged up a smile. "Just the landlord, aibou."

Yuugi frowned. "It's Friday already? I thought – " a yawn, " – we had another day."

"Go back to sleep, aibou," Yuugi suggested. "I'm going to go out for a bit. Jounouchi will be here with you," he added when Yuugi's eyes grew slightly wider in alarm. It took a moment, but Yuugi relaxed and nodded. His violet gaze wandered over to Jounouchi stretched out on the other side of the room.

Yami watched his aibou crawl over and curl up like a cat right next to the blond. He nodded, and left.

**xxxxx**

He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't know where he was going. Along with giving the _true_ story of Shizuka to Jounouchi, he'd also managed to extract enough about the blond's time at the Kaiba mansion to be incensed.

The best solution after the attack on Yuugi had seemed to be to disappear. It had worked, too, Yami reflected bitterly. They had vanished altogether too well. But with Jounouchi showing up, bearing scars courtesy of Kaiba, Yami had to wonder if Yuugi's sudden absence had just prompted the CEO to hunt out easier targets.

Maybe Anzu hadn't actually made it wherever she was going. Maybe Honda hadn't left out of choice. Maybe…

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd decided, but it seemed now that the only option available was to confront Kaiba. Yami wavered passing the museum, feeling the stirrings of the siren's song again, through so softly it only warmed his blood.

He knew where he was going – had known ever since he'd truly looked at Jounouchi and seen the haunted look in the blond's eyes.

The Kaiba mansion loomed, imposing and frozen on the outside. A huge, black iron fence surrounded the grounds except for one opening barely wide enough to let two walk abreast.

The meaning was clear enough: stay out.

Yami crossed that unspoken, unlabeled barrier without a second thought. His feet followed the carefully laid brick path between perfectly manicured lawn segments up to the porch.

To the front door.

Inside.

He didn't bother knocking. As advanced as Kaiba's security supposedly was, he'd expected to be accosted the moment he stepped through the door. Eerily, the entryway was silent.

A fine sheen of silvery dust hung over everything. The floor bore a broken path of footsteps, leading directly towards a set of stairs.

Yami followed them, but paused at the base of the stairs, glancing up. Where was everyone? He shook off the slight chill that went through him and proceeded to begin exploring the first level of the mansion.

Everything was decorated with that same silvery luster. After brushing his fingers though it, he decided it wasn't dust. Not in the typical sense, anyway. It didn't dull the shine of mirrors or tabletops – merely blended the whole of the landscape into an even tone, broken only with shadows and where his feet touched.

The altered landscape was serene, but at the same time, inspired of sense of intrusion on a long-dead presence. Yami felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck as he continued, moving slowly through the lower level.

He was the kitchen, shimmering. Here was the living room, glowing gently. There was the bathroom. He didn't need to go in it to see it too was saturated.

Eventually his footsteps returned him to the stairs, where the faint glittering of silver still sparkled. Slowly, Yami began to climb. It wasn't until he reached the second floor that he realized it was easier to breathe here. The dust, probably.

Because, the first thing that struck him about the second floor was color. So maybe wandering around in a monochrome landscape didn't make colors slap him in the face, but still… There was something more – alive – about the second floor. Something that _breathed_.

A high pitched electronic noise startled him until he recognized it as the battle phase of a video game. Still with heart beating fast, he stepped towards the sound.

The trail led him to a door painted blue grey in shades designed to negate the shadows caused by the door's carving and the lights.

Yami decided it was eerily similar in some way to the first floor, and knocked. He was still surprised that no one – no security, no staff, no Kaiba – had come whizzing towards him demanding to know what he was doing.

Maybe Kaiba relied on his reputation to keep away intruders, Yami mused. Certainly no one in his right mind would _choose_ to infiltrate the Kaiba mansion. Not without significant help, at any rate.

The odd door swung inward and Yami found himself face-to-face with a black-haired child. Eyes the exact shade of the door narrowed.

"Is your brother home?" It felt odd to have just walked into the mansion, now. But, as Yami reminded himself, this was _Kaiba_ who held neither by rules nor convention. To be noticed, one had to make bold moves.

A think mane of black hair shook with the boy's head. Blue-grey eyes stared at Yami accusingly.

"Do you know when he'll be back?"

A nod, but no words.

Yami waited, but the boy made no effort to offer a time. He took the silence as opportunity to study the other. Black hair fell to about mid-back, raked carelessly away from the face. Blue-grey eyes – the color of slate – shifted through emotion with fluid ease, but the expression on his face never altered.

He dropped the door without warning, backing into the room and motioning for Yami to follow. Yami watched in bemused silence as the black-haired child dug through the contents of a drawer to come up with a pen and notebook. The boy settled himself on the ground and looked up expectantly.

Yami gracefully sat down, wondering what this peculiar child was doing.

The pen raced across the paper of the notebook, and then it was offered.

Confused, Yami accepted, then began to read the smooth writing.

_Nii-sama is coming home in about an hour. You can wait for him. He's always home early on Fridays._

Yami looked up. "Can you speak?"

A firm nod.

"Then why," he raised the notebook a bit, "this?"

The boy snatched the book back and scribbled again, passing it back with a small smile.

_My words are for Nii-sama. If you could only say one hundred words, would you waste them on someone you hated? Or save them for someone you love?_

Yami opened his mouth.

The notebook disappeared briefly, then returned before he said anything.

_Besides, Nii-sama talks enough for both of us._

A mischievous smile accompanied the comment and Yami decided he liked this boy very much.

**xxxxx**

An hour passed rather quickly. They were in the midst of a video game when Mokuba sat up, rigid, eyes straying from the first time from the screen to the door.

Yami paused, wondering what it was.

Something made a sound downstairs and the boy sprang to his feet, skidding out the door. Yami followed at a more sedate pace, catching sight of Kaiba as the CEO neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Nii-sama! Nii-sama!"

It took Yami a moment to realize the voice belonged to Mokuba. Somewhere in the hour of conversation over paper, he'd unconsciously labeled the boy as mute, even though he'd been told differently.

"What is it, kiddo?" Kaiba's voice sounded less raspy and more gentle. The insanity had gone out of it, replaced with tenderness.

Yami watched Kaiba drop to his knees to be enveloped in a hug.

"Welcome home, Nii-sama," drifted up to Yami's ears. He felt like a voyeur of sorts, watching where prying eyes might not be appreciated.

As if he could feel the intrusion, Kaiba's eyes snapped up to Yami's at that moment, glittering dangerously at the bottom of the stairs, amidst the dead landscape.

But he didn't release his hold on Mokuba, Yami noticed. Then slate eyes gazed up at him too, laced with pained pride and determination.

Kaiba stood, drawing Mokuba's small body up, cradled in his arms, glowering defiantly still.

Yami watched the pair ascend the steps, wondering why he had thought this was a good idea. Anger from Jounouchi's mistreatment and the attack on Yuugi flickered dimly, but somehow could ignite properly under that ice glare.

Air vanished from his lungs and his chest constricted. Something maddeningly familiar and yet alien drifted so close, but just out of reach. The desire for closeness was overwhelming.

He stepped back.

Kaiba set Mokuba down and stepped forward, placing himself between the boy and Yami.

Yami recalled one of the more poetic of Mokuba's notes, seeing Kaiba step forward as if to protect Mokuba. A gladiator of sorts.

Mokuba's face had been deadly serious when he wrote it, so perhaps that was why Yami remembered it so well.

_Nii-sama and I belong together. I'm his angel, he's my demon – but together, we are human._

____________________________________  
Author's Notes:  
So Yami's not supposed to be in the Kaiba mansion, he's a little jumpy, and silver dust is playing tricksies with his head. Mokuba isn't exactly as active in my 'verse as he is in the actual anime, so while Yami may recognize him, Mokuba remains an uncertain quantity Other than that...not a lot to say about this. I've been gone for a while... Summer is not a good time for me to write, I have decided. I'm just prone to vanishing fits. 0.o  
Reviews welcomed with open arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

The Art of Rebuilding

-

-

-

"Why are you here?" Short, clipped. Curious, but not obvious. Behind him, Mokuba was watching. He didn't need to look to see the slate eyes peering anxiously past him. At his rival.

He could swear those red eyes changed color. Blood red when furious, scarlet when afraid, crimson with insecurity.

"I needed to talk to you."

Kaiba let a sneer twist its way onto his face. "'Talk'?" he echoed. "About what?"

His rival made a slightly smudged sentence. He didn't bother listening, eyes capturing instead the rigid posture, over-tense limbs. Followed the eyes that strayed to Mokuba. Twice. He saw the fists clench and unclench at the other's sides, aggravated because of his refusal to answer.

But what his rival didn't understand was that he didn't _need_ to answer. He didn't need justification here. His own place. His own rules.

The one stage where inhibitions could be forgotten completely without drugs, booze or sleep deprivation.

Kaiba stepped forward. His rival stepped back another pace. He took another step, shorter this time with the same result. In the back of his mind, he knew Mokuba was watching, but then, Mokuba was like a conscience – always watching.

His rival had succeeded in backing himself into a corner. Kaiba took a step, savoring the swaying color through eyes that realized further retreat was not an option.

"Kaiba, what are you doing?" Confusion, apprehension, frustration.

Another step, standing body to body so he was gazing down at the King of Games, feeling the same note singing in his blood as when he touched the tomb carving. A funeral dirge, melancholy but tinged with the hope for an afterlife.

Eyes, red eyes, locked with his. He let a hand snake up, tipped that face up, much as he had at the museum. Confusion melted into defiance. "Accidentally" he let his hand slip, crushed it against his rival's windpipe, held it there, watching in detached fashion. Hands clawed at his arm, red eyes darkened.

The clock ticked slowly, birds called outside. Clouds shifted, a fly trapped inside buzzed as it zipped past. Traffic hummed.

Red eyes…began to die.

He yanked back, let the King of Games sputter back into life. Wondered how close to death he could bring him…the two of them.

Leaned in and sucked the breath from both their bodies.

**xxxxx**

"What the hell are you doing?" Hands had shoved him away, their owner panting, bewildered.

Kaiba smirked. Behind him, he could feel Mokuba watching. Then his little slate-eyed shadow was by him, latched onto his arm, locking the three of them tightly in the corner.

"Shut up." With Mokuba on one arm, he lowered his head again, free hand gently, threateningly, resting about his rival's throat. The shorter duelist was unresponsive to his kiss, but it barely mattered. Rigid, frightened – the King of Games was at _his_ mercy.

Power…intoxicating.

The hammering pulse under his fingers. The soft, unyielding lips under his own.

His tongue brushed across those lips, tasting, exploring. To his surprise, after a moment, the other's mouth opened slightly, just enough to allow him access. He took the dare, slipped the tip of his tongue in.

Teeth came together, _hard_.

Kaiba growled low in his throat, biting at his rival's mouth, banging teeth and snarling. Somewhere along the line, Mokuba had let go of his arm and retreated. Somewhere his little brother had come back, slate eyes casting every image in stone.

His nails dug into the other's collarbone. A gasp of surprise and pain freed his tongue. Little drips of red speckled under his fingers. More surprising still, his rival's eyes had darkened, pupils dilated to spite the light. A trembling, half-strangled moan escaped the Game king's perfect lips. _His_ name, breathed out in broken, ragged syllables.

Experimentally, Kaiba dug his nails in further, gouging holes in ivory skin. The moaning increased.

His rival, a closet masochist. Who would have thought?

The other's slim body was trembling, eyes having drifted shut from whatever messed up mechanics had switched the channels of what hurt and what felt too good.

"W-why are you d-doing this?" Words choked out, curious, confused.

Kaiba lowered his head so his mouth was beside his rival's ear. "Maybe I like seeing you at a disadvantage," he breathed. Then he bit the ear, earning a sharp yelp.

Deviation from an original plan. Exploration of a new route.

Mokuba's presence had vanished, nearly extinguished by the feral rush of lest and drive for dominance. Power. Kaiba caressed pale skin that looked too perfect. Still unbroken.

**xxxxx**

Metal and leather, smoke and rope, provided the perfect setting. The shorter duelist had struggled at first, growling out threats that Kaiba had ignored. Now red eyes rested closed, a helpless body suspended in midair. Easy to reach, to touch, to feel.

Easy to maim, to break, to crush.

To hurt.

Tiny splatterings of rusting blood speckled the otherwise unblemished skin. Four deep holes dug so carefully into the Game King's body. Nearly decoration, carved as a mark of ownership. Possession. Claiming.

Words bubbled out past his rival's lips, slurred so far as to be unrecognizable. Kaiba traced the pattern of veins under the skin down those fragile arms, drawing fingertips down them gently.

All the while, he was thinking. Thinking. That maddening bit of brain function that wouldn't simply vanish at will. He wanted. He wanted… He _wanted_ –

Wanted…what? Red eyes so dark he could see himself reflected. Hoarse cries of mingled agony and pleasure. Power over his rival.

But more than that. Somewhere, somehow, he felt the desire to have his rival, to possess the King of Games like no other ever could. To own his soul, control his body, rewrite his mind. If such things were possible, surely he could do it.

Rewrite the Game King from the inside out, change him into an even more warped version of what he was now.

Kaiba licked his lips, the tip of his tongue flicking out almost unconsciously. To taste his rival, rework the clay and fire it into a shape unrecognizable by anyone who _had_ known him… The very idea was intoxicating.

Change for the simple sake of change had never been very high on his list of priorities in his own life. In the gaming industry, 'new' was what attracted buyers. Putting the concept of change into his personal life wouldn't kill him, at any rate.

_Why won't you move? Why won't you fight?_

Kaiba tangled his hand in his rival's hair, tugging back, causing a grimace to cross the Game King's face. The other's head was tilted back at a sharp angle, exposing hiss throat, devoid of the black neck belt. Sharp, shallow breathing was the only constant sound in the room.

_Has the fight gone out of you?_

He released his grip, but the other's head remained tilted back, vulnerable. Red eyes opened a sliver, except they weren't red at all but some hybrid version of black and blood –  
_Is this what _you_ want?_

Those eyes dipped closed once again, and his rival's body began to shake slightly, trembling in the rigged harness that had left the cur with scars. Kaiba watched with mild interest as the shaking intensified.

_What is he doing? Trying to jolt himself free?_

"K-k-kaiba – " His name, quivering on the other's tongue, tainted with too many sensations to label. "Kaiba – " Stronger this time, and those red eyes had opened, almost entirely black now, " – please."

**xxxxx**

When he first had met the brat, he had seen nothing extraordinary about him. There was a subtle strength contained in him, to be sure, but no fire. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that could possibly force him outside himself.

Except when they had taken to the field, something had changed. There had been a _rival_ there. A challenge. An aggressor that enabled him to battle the world.

Because, fighting had been the only thing he understood. The soldier trapped in the past, unable to face a world at peace, so he built his own war, staged on the home front. As both commander and warrior, he had gone on.

When the brat had separated from his rival, there had been the freedom of open warfare once again. Except…they had disappeared, taking his only chance at being himself with them. Any other test subject was a poor substitute for the King of Games. They were toys that broke too easily.

Then, miracle of the impossible - _he_ had returned. But, still, everything wasn't as it should have been. Kaiba had felt the broken insides to the Game King. Had known his only chance of becoming real rested in rewriting the poisoned hardware.

_Rebuild to invincibility, then come back to life fighting._

So what were these words coming from his trusted rival's mouth? The only one besides Mokuba who could never betray him. Words of submission, of pleading. _Where_ was his rival?

"Kaiba –" That deep voice, shaking. "Please – don't leave me like this."

Leave…leave…don't…go.

_Don't go." That was his voice, choked with emotion…with weakness. He watched the bitter darkness, saw a hand come towards him. Smelled the acrid scent of burning, then his shoulder was on fire. Then it was gone, when it was nearly unbearable._

His rival's voice whispered, "I don't want to cause you any more pain."

Whether it was the insensible nonsense his mind had invented or some other weird phenomenon, Kaiba neither knew nor cared. He drew close to his rival's body, giving the contact he could feel a craving for.

_Rebuild from the inside out. First, there has to be a way inside._

He dug his fingers into the other's sides, running teeth roughly over the exposed neck as well. His name again, choked, smothered. There had to be a way to get his name off his rival's lips.

Red eyes were open, staring, daring him to come closer. Kaiba accepted the challenge.

It wasn't a kiss. Not even close. There was more blood flooding their mouths than should have been possible. He was fairly certain he'd ripped the other's lip open with his teeth, and quite positive his tongue was gashed. Too much clicking of teeth together for it to be called a kiss. More like they were both trying to dominate one another's faces.

Maybe trying to rip out an eye or tongue tip in the process.

When he finally pulled away, Kaiba was aware that he was breathing blood, and that it was only partly his own. His rival was panting harshly, saliva and scarlet mingling to form a sanguinary portrait.

Kaiba's eye caught the discarded collar he'd pulled off when they first came down here. He snatched it up and pulled it around his rival's neck, drawing it a few loops tighter than it had been. Tight enough so he could hear the Game King struggle for breath.

_I wonder how tight it could go before he couldn't breathe. I wonder how long he would struggle for air. How long after he stopped breathing that his heart would stop beating. How long after _that_ would it never start again?_

He came close again, put his bloody mouth beside his rival's ear. "How long will you fight? How indestructible are you? What would it take to break you? Rebuild you? Destroy you?"

Shivers, violent shivers as his only answers. A shaking body that seemed to be saying "touch me" and "back off" all at once.

_Who listens to the mind anymore? Obey the senses._

His hands flew over the familiar restraints, undoing knots, locks, fetters. Letting the captive loose.

The Game King tumbled to the ground in an ungraceful heap, but while his breathing was still forced, his hands made no move toward unfastening the collar. Interesting.

Kaiba drew in again, lowering himself to his knees, pulling at the tight black fabric encasing his rival's torso. Arms raised, aiding in the eventual removal of the shirt.

Why was he so close to the other? Why was he touching that soft, pale skin so gently? Bruises had already begun to form along the Game King's sides. Why not add to them? One look in crimson eyes and he had his answer, even if he couldn't put words to it.

His rival's hands caught his wrists and pulled them downward, until they rested at the other's hipbones.

_It's okay,_ red eyes whispered to him. _Touch me. Take me. Own me._

Kaiba slid the belts out of their loops, off the Game King's hips. Lowered one hand, used the other to wind behind his rival's head. The hand that wasn't tangled in hair brushed lightly up the crotch seam of the other's pants. Hips jerked in response. Forward. Towards him.

_Touch me, please._

He watched his rival's face as he traced the seam again, more slowly this time. Forefront in the other's face was need, desire.

Light hisses, grinding hips, dilated eyes – all asking for more. Asking to be dominated. This couldn't be his rival. Not like this. He'd rebuild him, remake him from the inside out.

Kaiba ripped open the zipper and stripped the leather off the Game King with a swift efficiency that was anything but erotic. It bordered on brutal, considering just how tight those pants were.

Soft moans greeted him, and heavy-lidded eyes. Open legs, hiding nothing, making no attempt to conceal. A nude body, bearing the simplest of markings – four red dots across the collarbone, newly forming bruises down both sides, a black collar pulled tight around that strong neck…

Hands pulled at his own clothing. Kaiba batted them away, impatiently. Too slow, too slow. He stood and backed off a bit, divesting himself of the starched shirt and pants that were suddenly too confining. Then he was back, kneeling beside his rival, rolling the other over. Not overly gentle, but he wasn't forcing, either.

Red eyes glanced back at him. Kaiba met them.

A shriek of pain broke their silent stalemate. He smirked, scissoring dry fingers within the Game King's body. His rival jerked under him, still making that unearthly sound. After a moment longer, Kaiba withdrew his fingers, earning himself a dark glare. He held the other's hips steady. Moved in slowly.

His rival's head was thrown back, panting and growling both stifled somewhat by the neck belt. He moved much slower than he had ever done with the cur, but then, he'd been in the business of breaking the dog, not rebuilding him.

Once seated inside his rival's body, Kaiba paused, thought choosing _that_ moment to attack him. But then hips slammed up against his. He growled and drove his own forward, holding his rival's body up, moving with him. Thrusting, panting, growling.

Feeling like this was part of some ancient rhythm…some backward path his body remembered where his mind didn't.

Under him, the Game King hissed in what had to be agonized pleasure. He was moving more easily in the other now. Something warm and wet was aiding his movements. The heat of the body below seemed to increase to an impossible height.

Just as he crashed over the edge, releasing into his rival, he felt transported, viewing a scene clothed in darkness.

_"I asked Isis to ensure I would see you again." The Game King's voice… "Sometimes it takes a mirror to see reflected pain. In some new life, we might have a real chance."_

Then he was back, coming down off his sexual high with his rival still writing with pent up tension. He slipped a hand down to help the Game King finish, sticky release coating it when his rival did.

Slowly he withdrew, noticing with detached fascination that there was _blood_ coating their thighs as well as semen and sweat…

"Kaiba – "

He caught the other's gaze and held it.

_"Why?"_

Author's Notes:  
Just on a random note, my restraint of choice is thread, because it's easy to break. So if you get tied up in a hard-to-hold position, it's even more work to stay like that. Interesting stuff, thread is…  
Looks like a bit of the man-whore Atemu is left over from the AE arc, yes?  
So, there was the lemon-ishness.  
One little extra thing…I have a confession. I like reviews. A lot. And lack of reviews makes me depressed beyond measure. I have a pair of faithful reviewers… ((Many thanks to barrie18 and dragonlady222)) and I shall continue the story for them, but maybe someone else from the 600+ hits might like to contribute a few words? *nudgenudge* I write faster when I get reviews! =P


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Touch of Grace

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Quick AN from last chapter: For clarification, Kaiba's looking to rebuild what was never actually broken, only severely fractured. Kaiba's one of those intriguing breeds – an unreliable narrator. But don't look so surprised – they ALL are. The only one who could tell the truth I silenced – no use knowing when I can leave you thinking instead.

Now that Kaiba was out of him, off of him, all Yami could recognize was how much he _hurt_. It hadn't been gentle in the least. Not the way it was with…with Yuugi.

He had to pause to come up with the right name for his aibou. Another name, one that drew forth images of lotus flowers and earthen pots, lingered on the edges of his consciousness. Not 'Yuugi,' not 'aibou,' but something at once far more alien, though startlingly familiar. Like a favorite childhood rhyme played by a full orchestra.

That was disturbing in a way that even Kaiba couldn't manage. Next to his temporary lapse in memory, Kaiba's unexplainable mating urge seemed almost insignificant. Well, perhaps not insignificant, but less…something.

Yami curled himself up, using his knees to block his neck from view as he unhooked the collar that had been quite close to making him pass out. _It's a good thing no one needs oxygen during sex, anyway…_ With that off, he began to take mental inventory of damage.

_Extra sore ass. Bruising in quite a few locations. Brain damage from oxygen deficiency? Chaffed wrists. Wrenched shoulder. Minor headache._

Nothing broken. Nothing obviously damaged beyond repair.

Movement recalled him to his surroundings. Kaiba was getting dressed. Yami cast about cautiously for his own clothing. He didn't particularly care for the vulnerability of being the only one naked. Kaiba – whether by accident or out of the goodness of a heart Yami wasn't sure he possessed – kicked Yami's clothing within reach. Eagerly, he pulled his stuff on.

It felt extremely odd to have blood and semen on the inside of his pants legs, but there was nothing he could clean off with. Kaiba had donned _his_ clothing without a care, Yami saw. He also noted, with minor jealousy, that the young CEO's clothing wasn't skin tight the way _his_ was.

Kaiba was watching as he wriggled into the leather pants and black top. Yami flushed under that penetrating gaze. He was confused. What exactly _had_ that been about? It hadn't been horrible… To his confusion, he'd actually _enjoyed_ some of it – but…Kaiba's motives were utterly opaque.

Yami didn't even bother trying to fathom a reason. He had asked _"Why?"_ and received pitying blue eyes as his only answer. Blue eyes that had swallowed him up, drawn him in close –

Violet eyes burned in his mind's eye, obliterating the blue, searing his vision. That _other_ name on his lips, seeking release from its confines. But he didn't know the right locks to let it loose!

Yami glared past the purple bleeding to color his vision until Kaiba was in view again. He watched the taller duelist move from one corner of the room to the other, pacing. Not agitated, but passing time. He followed the CEO with his eyes, watching every movement, searching for a clue. Something. Anything.

Kaiba paused, once. Held himself still for the briefest of moments, locking eyes with him. In a nanosecond that lasted an eternity, so much passed between them.

No triumphant look of domination from the CEO. Instead, a look of hope, like he'd seen a light at the end of the tunnel. Heard the angels singing. Yami couldn't take that look. He broke eye contact, reeling with the information such a brief moment had provided.

Kaiba…Kaiba had not touched him to hurt him. Perhaps had not even intended the physical maladies that accompanied him now. In blue eyes, he read broken belief, determination and something older, coming from the ancient past to redirect the future.

And violet eyes.

Violet – damn the purple blocking his vision! Blurring scarlet fever and ice chill together into nothingness. Yami stumbled towards the CEO, found himself caught in possessive arms asking for more than he could give. Arms cradling his broken, wreck of a body, holding him close to a frame warmer than his own.

Lips parted, but nothing came out. All his questions, his fears – dissolved when he was here. Held so close to the other duelist, his true rival… How then, did it feel remotely acceptable? Yami met blue eyes. Heard words. So soft…like dewdrops. So quiet he wasn't even sure they _were_ words until the tips brushed against his ears.

_"Once I desire something…I cannot undesired it. I cannot even try to resist. I will desire it until I have it. But there is no end. No matter how much I take, I still want."_

Yami blinked. _Is this Kaiba?_ he wondered dazedly. _Is this…the same person who hurt Jounouchi? Who wanted to kill aibou? Or was that someone else?_ Strange thoughts that one had in the presence of a rival-turned – well…turned what, really? Lover?

_It wasn't love. It was sex._ But so close to the brunet, held up so carefully, Yami's mind had to wonder. Exactly what _had_ that encounter been to Kaiba? And what had the other hoped to gain?

_He's always been in the game for power,_ Yami thought cynically, even as his hands twisted into the starched fabric of the brunet's shirt. _He never forgave aibou for defeating him. Never forgave me, either._

Was Kaiba taking him somewhere? They were just standing… Or, Kaiba was. Sometimes those blue eyes flickered down to meet his… Only briefly, because he always broke the contact, unsure of himself, of Kaiba.

Again, soft words echoing at the edge of his conscious mind. Kaiba's words. Kaiba's voice, though whether the CEO was peaking to him or not was open for interpretation.

_"The time for games is over. If you want to set the world ablaze…lay down your weapons. There is nothing to fear."_

**xxxxx**

Something slammed above them. Someone screamed. Kaiba's face, never soft, hardened beyond measure. A mixture of fear and foreboding flooded Yami. The brunet was still holding him but haphazardly with only one arm. The other swung loose by his side, aiding in momentum as the CEO began running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Yami clung on for dear life.

The screaming had abated by the time they reached the landing. Kaiba was a mad thing, eyes so wide his irises were nearly lost in a sea of white. Yami hit the ground on the silver-laden first floor, rolling to absorb the shock. Kaiba was sprinting towards the front door.

Time moved so slowly.

The door opened. Yami lurched back to his feet, hand outstretched, half-falling, half-running after the other, not knowing if the screaming was his own now or Kaiba's or some demented angel come to taunt the both of them.

The door closed as Kaiba vanished through it. Yami wrenched it open and fell out onto the law outside. The perfectly manicured lawn. And screamed.

**xxxxx**

Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved. Once upon a time, he loved. And once up on a time, the one he loved was destroyed in the name of love.

Once upon a rhyme, they was a boy who lived. Once upon a thyme, he lived. And once upon a thyme, the life he lived was destroyed because of life. For life.

Once there was a time. Once there was a thyme. Once there was someone worth your pity. But not anymore.

**xxxxx**

A half-circle A flood of elements around a shock of blond.

Jounouchi stood there with blood on his hands. Only rage and pain touched his face. Only the scent of fear could possibly reach him now.

Disbelief, shock – Yami was beyond those, glaring in agonized silence across a chasm pushed deceptively close, but too far to ever breech.

Next to him, Kaiba was on his knees. The broken cry of his lover had taken to the skies, keening its grief.

Mokuba.

**xxxxx**

The meaning of lucid is sane. When one dreams and does not know it, one is not lucid. One is not…sane. Maybe I'm dreaming then. I'm dreaming my own death – his death, yours.

Yes, I'm looking at you. No, I can't see you. Maybe it's because none of us are quite real. Or maybe it's because only _I_ am.

Maybe it's all one fearsome nightmare, bleeding all shades of red and blue and violet. The extra life in _his_ eyes, the sense of self he was always missing – it's there. His body is slumped with grief, but he seems taller somehow. He _feels_ whole in a way no one ever truly does.

What are these tricks, then? What is this insanity/ These dreams none of us can wake from. The nightmares that have us all trapped in the floorboards, smelling Hell's flames below but not quite ready to fall yet. Because when we fall, we'll all just wake up, won't we?

Unless the dream isn't one, and the nightmare actually _is_. If it really _is_ your little brother on your front lawn with huge slate eyes that can't see anything anymore. Because maybe that experiment of yours has discovered it's got some fangs after all… And maybe instead of killing _you_ he killed your shadow instead.

And let's suppose your shadow was your soul, your better half. Where would you be then? Dead? Lost? Destroyed?

Reborn.

But you couldn't have done it alone, because no one can kill his own soul.

So now you're seeing things and hearing things and I belong to you or you belong to me if you believe in the sort of thing you swore could never exist.

Which leaves one to wonder who is speaking when all of _then_ are out there, crying over the crumpled body of a black-haired boy. Because, who would think someone as perfectly demented as us could use the touch of grace?

___________________________-  
Author's Notes: Neither version of Yami is hallucinating with any clarity. Only Seto/Seth is allowed that particular privilege. Or is it a curse? If he was cursed with remembering a past his present day self hardly believes in, would you pity him?  
I have Loveless quotes in here too… So, those don't belong to me either.


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning:** YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.  
**Pairing: **Puzzle (YamixYuugi), Puppy (KaibaxJou)  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.  
**Background:** Second in a trilogy.  
**Dedication:** To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

* * *

Epilogue

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_The human brain protects us from our senses. It allows us to see what it wants to see, hear what it wants to hear. It doesn't like defied expectations. But then…how do we ever know what's real?_

"Well, I guess that's the last box." _Figures._

Yuugi nodded. "I still can't believe we're moving in with Kaiba-kun."

Yami shook his head slightly. "It was the mansion or the streets," he felt compelled to point out.

A small laugh greeted his words. "I don't _mind_, mou hitori no boku," the smaller male exclaimed. "I just…didn't think you two got along that well."

Yami watched as his aibou finished chasing dust bunnies back to their respective corners. It hadn't taken that long to pack…and thank god, because it was almost quarter of eight. He hefted one of the three boxes and Yuugi lifted another. The third one was keeping the door propped open.

"After you, aibou.' Yuugi snorted slightly, but led the way down the hall, down the stairs and outside.

"Do you want me to get the other box?" the violet eyed duelist inquired.

Yami gave a short nod, partially distracted by the limo pulling into the back lot. Once the thing stopped, one of the side doors opened and Kaiba stepped out. Yami gave a curt bob of his head to acknowledge the other's presence. Kaiba did likewise.

Yuugi reappeared, bearing the final box.

"Is this it?" Kaiba inquired, an eyebrow raised. Yami glared a bit.

Yuugi seemed completely oblivious to the tension. "Yeah, that's all," he answered, eyeing the limo with an appraising look. "Kaiba-kun, are we really going to ride in _that_?"

Kaiba's eyes narrowed slightly, but he offered a wordless assent. Yuugi made a gleeful sound. "You can get in," the CEO offered. At least, it was phrased as an offer. Yami recognized the command behind it. He opened his mouth to rebuke the brunet…but Yuugi had already joyfully clambered in.

"Kaiba, this changes nothing." Yami wasn't sure exactly _what_ wasn't changing, but he wanted to affirm t hat belief now, while they could still walk away.

The brunet smirked. "Of course it doesn't."

Yami tried again, desperate to gain the upper hand before climbing into Kaiba's black hearse. "You will leave Yuugi alone."

"It's not Yuugi I'm concerned with."

"This whole idea is insanity," Yami grumbled.

"Agreeing to love – to trust love's object unconditionally – that too, is insanity." Kaiba's eyes were sharp, cutting.

Yami was ready to try again, but Yuugi chose that moment to lean out the door. "Yami! Come look – Kaiba-kun has a refrigerator in here!"

The moment was gone then, and mutely, the red-eyed duelist headed into the limo, taking a seat next to his aibou. Kaiba sat next to him.

On the journey over, they were silent, except for Yuugi who occasionally made little "ooh-ings" and "aah-ings" of excitement over various objects in the vehicle.

Kaiba never took his eyes off Yami. Yami never took his eyes off Kaiba. When they stopped in the driveway of the mansion, the swift deceleration pushed Yami a touch closer than he wanted to be.

Kaiba climbed out. Yami and Yuugi followed suit. "Welcome home."

Yuugi began a delighted exploration at once. Yami watched from the driveway, face set into a grim expression.

_Is this really home, then? Or just another chapter in a life of hellish lies?_


End file.
